Se connecterHey, my loves! It's Lady P❣️ here. 💋 We are officially 6 chapters into our journey, and I am so grateful to have you here with me. Every vote, every comment, every time you click that "next chapter" button — it means the world to me. ❤️ I want to hear from YOU. What do you think is locked inside that ring? Do you trust Xavia? Do you think Ezekiel will ever truly regret what he did? Drop your theories in the comments — I read EVERY SINGLE ONE of them. And who knows, your theory might just be closer to the truth than you think... 👀💭 This story is just beginning, and I promise you — the twists, the heartbreak, the fire, the redemption — it's all coming. So stick around, keep voting, and let's make this journey unforgettable together. 🔥📖 Your girl, Lady P❣️
Xavia stood in my doorway. The firelight from the corridor spilled into my room, casting his shadow long and dark across the stone floor. He was still wearing the same black shirt from earlier, the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, revealing the scars I had noticed before — faded silver lines that crisscrossed his skin like a map of old wounds. He did not say anything. He just stood there, looking at me. I sat up on the bed, his coat still wrapped around my shoulders, the scent of ozone and wet slate clinging to me like a second skin. My heart was pounding, but I forced my voice steady. "It's late." "I know." He stepped inside, and the door clicked shut behind him. "I couldn't sleep." I almost laughed. "Neither could I." He walked to the window and looked out at the forest. The moon was still high, silver and cold, casting long shadows across the trees. He stood there for a long moment, and I watched the way the light caught the sharp lines of his face, the way his jaw tightene
Three days passed—three days of training, of aching muscles and bloody knuckles. Three days of Xavia pushing me harder than I thought I could go, and three days of the pack watching me like I was a disease they were waiting to see spread. They did not trust me, and I could not blame them. I did not trust me either.But I kept going, because stopping meant giving up, and I was done giving up.On the fourth morning, I woke to a knock on my door. I opened it to find Callum standing in the hallway, his face grave and his eyes sharp and assessing."Alpha wants you," he said.I followed him, getting used to these summons. We passed through the training grounds where wolves sparred in pairs, their grunts and the crack of wood against wood filling the air. I caught a glimpse of my reflection in a window as I walked past. I looked different than I had a few days ago—harder, more alert.He led me not to the training grounds or the study, but to the entrance hall. The fortress doors were wide op
The hallway was empty.I stood frozen, my hand still on the door handle, my heart hammering against my ribs. The shadows at the end of the corridor were still, dark, and silent. There was no one there.But I had seen him. I was sure of it.Ezekiel's eyes. Cold and gray and watching me.I blinked, and the vision was gone. Just shadows. Just the flicker of torchlight playing tricks on my exhausted mind.I let out a breath I did not realize I had been holding."Are you coming or not?" Callum's voice echoed from further down the hall.I turned and followed him, my legs unsteady beneath me.He led me through a maze of corridors, not speaking, not looking back. He just walked, and I followed, until we reached a door at the end of a narrow hallway. The walls were bare stone, cold to the touch, and the air smelled like damp earth and old iron."Your room," he said.I opened the door. The room was small but clean—a bed with a thin mattress, a wooden table, a window that looked out onto the dar
The fire crackled in the hearth. I sat in the chair Xavia had pointed to, my hands resting on my knees, my nails still digging into my palms. His coat was still wrapped around my shoulders, heavy and warm, and the scent of ozone and wet slate clung to me like a second skin.My body was exhausted, but my mind was racing. The bond hummed in my chest, a constant reminder that I was sitting in an enemy fortress, drinking from a bottle he had given me.Xavia stood across from me, his back to the fire. The flames cast shadows across his face, making him look even more unreadable. He had been watching me since we walked in—not staring exactly, but studying, like I was a wound he was trying to diagnose."You're shaking," he said.I looked at my hands. They were trembling against my thighs. I pressed them flat and forced them still."I'm fine.""You're not." He walked to the desk and pulled open a drawer, taking out a small glass bottle filled with dark liquid. "Drink this."I stared at it. "W
The word hung between us like a blade.Fine.I said it, and I could not take it back. I was not sure I wanted to.Xavia Thorne stood across from me, dark hair falling across his forehead, those amber eyes sharp and unreadable. He did not look like a man who had just caught a trespasser. He looked like a man who had been waiting for something—and I had just walked into it."You're not going to run?" he asked.I almost laughed. "Run where?"He tilted his head, studying me. "Back to your pack. Back to the Alpha who just threw you away."The words stung more than I wanted to admit, but I had walked out of that hall without begging. I was not about to start now."My pack isn't mine anymore," I said. "And that Alpha isn't my anything."Something flickered in his eyes—interest, maybe. He took a step closer, and I forced myself to hold my ground. He was taller than I had realized, broader in the shoulders. Up close, I could see the faint scars on his jaw, the way his amber eyes seemed to catc
The moon chose me for him, but he said my name like it was a mistake.I stood in the center of the Iron-Claw Collective's pack hall with three hundred wolves watching, the air thick with the scent of pine and old blood. Torches flickered along the stone walls, casting shadows that jumped and danced across the faces of the pack. My hands were steady, but my heart was not.Ezekiel Cross stood across from me, tall and broad-shouldered, his silver-gray hair cropped short and his gray eyes cold and distant. He looked everywhere except at me.I had spent twenty-two years being invisible, twenty-two years being useful, twenty-two years watching people look through me like I was part of the furniture. And now the moon had chosen me for him.Elara Fritz.The name echoed through the hall, but it didn't sound like him. It sounded rehearsed, hollow, like he had practiced this moment alone in his chambers.I waited. The bond pulled at my chest, a tug I had felt from the moment I walked in—the warm







